My Hideaway

I travel through my town with the eyes of a tourist.

I awaken every morning with the prayer that I will either see something new for the first time, or that I will see something old in a new way.

I roam about town in my free time, discovering and exploring…yet I consistently end up at or near The Holland Museum.  At first glance, it may seem as if my prayer wasn’t answered.  I assure you, it was.  Every single visit reveals something new to me.  Let me explain.

front view HM

When I was a single mom, I would load up my three kids into the car, and we would explore the museum.  The docent would hand us an interactive “i-Spy” print out and we were off in a controlled-not-quite-running pace to locate each item.

After our game was complete, I would gather the children together as we stood in their hushed awe in front of the military display.  I would explain to them why each of the brave men were honored, and I would gently explain why we needed to be thankful to our soldiers and their families. Some of my favorite memories are of their three sets of pudgy hands quietly folded as they stood in somber silence, their cherubic faces reflected in the display case.

Then we would traipse upstairs, following the docent as he or she led us into the world of The Dutch Masters.  My children were immersed in beauty and culture as they soaked up Rembrandt and others with the eager innocence of preschoolers.  On the way down the staircase, we would take turns feeling the coolness of the marble on our hands.

Eight years and a beautiful marriage later, I was sitting at my laptop when the near-panic of fear threatened to wash over me.  I knew that it was time to write my book, and I had everything that I needed to go forth…except for courage.  I ran to my car, and found myself parked in front of my favorite hideaway.

Soon I was accompanied by a kind docent named Roger.  We chatted amicably and he reminded me so much of my grandpapa that soon I was pouring out my fears to him in a torrent.  He smiled gently and said, “Well, it looks like you just need to jump off that precipice in faith, girl!  Go write your book!”.

I did.

I have no regrets…only gratitude for the wisdom of a docent.

This entire week will be dedicated to The Holland Museum, in honor of Roger.

If you’re in Holland, Michigan; come visit.

Tell the receptionist that because of Roger, Gracie K. sent you. 😉

If you can’t visit, I will include a few of my favorite architectural shots for you below.

Soak up the beauty like I do…and remember that each visit paves the way for richer memories on your next one.


6 thoughts on “My Hideaway

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